


Winter's Kiss (It Happened Like This)

by sockthief



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Princess/Mechanic, Season/Series 01, Winter, hurt!bellamy, sick!clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8053393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sockthief/pseuds/sockthief
Summary: The 100 are struggling to survive their first winter on the ground. If sickness and starvation don’t get them, the grounders will. Bellamy and Clarke are still working on their dynamic as co-leaders, but are they finding themselves hurling towards something more?





	Winter's Kiss (It Happened Like This)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I think I’m coming down with something and I /should/ be studying but I’m ignoring both my health and my notes because procrastination is the story of my life. Anyway, this takes place season 1. We’re doing a throw back here people because everything is a hot mess right now. The explosion at the drop ship never happened, Mountain Men never happened, and Finn never happened because I can’t deal with him. Also, the Ark is still in space, surviving, but there’s no communication on that front.  
> That being said, the 100 are struggling to survive their first winter on the ground. If sickness and starvation don’t get them, the grounders will. Speaking of grounders, Lincoln isn’t in this. Wish he was, he’s awesome, but it was easier just to leave him out than write him in. Sorry. Nevertheless, enjoy!

“You need a break,” came Bellamy’s voice through the tarp that separated Raven’s work station and the medical station on the first floor of the drop ship.  
“And you need to mind your own damn business,” Clarke shot back, as she figured, by this point, she always would with him.  
“If you guys are going to start arguing I’m kicking you both out,” Raven called from her side of the tarp.  
“We’re not arguing, Bellamy was just walking Jasper out,” Clarke responded sweetly with quite the resolve, “keep your weight off your ankle for a week and we’ll take it from there. Don't forget to elevate it like I showed you.” She instructed as she turned her attention back to Jasper, who hurt his ankle during their two month celebration of surviving on the ground, which of course, meant that copious amounts of moonshine had been involved.  
Bellamy gave her a smirk, but not before adding,  
“Seriously, break. I know you holed up in here instead of having fun last night,” and with that, he dutifully helped Jasper hobble out of the drop ship on one leg. Once they were out of earshot, Raven came around to Clarke’s side of the tarp just in time to catch her scratching out another tick mark on the metal wall with a knife.  
“You know I hate that sound,” Raven complained.  
“I can’t believe we’ve survived down here for two months,” Clarke said, with a hint of resentment. They had survived, sure, but at what cost? How many more had to die until they were sure they could sustain themselves indefinitely? They had already been through so much, and Clarke had made some decisions she wish she had never been asked to make. Things were stable but teetering. With her luck, they wouldn't stay that way for long. They were all going to tip over the edge.  
“I haven’t,” Raven said in a low voice, so low Clarke almost couldn't hear her. She knew it was something that bothered Raven, not being one of the first back on the ground in a century. She had landed twelve days after.  
Finally satisfied with the new mark on her makeshift calendar, Clarke turned to look at her friend.  
“Doesn’t matter if you’ve been here two months or two days. You’re easily one of the most important people we have down here. At least you got to spend Unity Day with us,” Clarke smiled, hoping Raven would appreciate the morbid joke. She did, earning Clarke a wide grin.  
“Yeah, at least I made it in time for the party,”  
“And the moonshine,” Clarke reminded her.  
“And the moonshine,”  
0o0  
“I didn’t think it would start this soon” Clarke mused as thick clumps of white fluff fell from the sky without formation. They fluttered to the ground and stuck there, mocking her. If she wasn’t so worried about the harsh conditions the coming months would have on the camp, she might have thought the scene was pretty. The trees had already shed their leaves, and the snow stuck to their trunks and froze to their branches, creating crystalline structures that nearly took her breath away.  
“We’re ready.” Bellamy responded from somewhere over her right shoulder. She turned to glare at him, but he didn’t notice, as his head was tilted upward, taking in the sight of the infinite gray sky.  
“Influenza, pneumonia, the common fucking cold, Bellamy, not to mention starvation and hypothermia. What if half the kids are sick and the grounders decide to attack? What if we didn't gather enough food? Are we ready for that?” she listed off worst case scenarios, turning to face him head on now, crossing her arms. He brought his gaze down to meet her piercing eyes, which would have terrified the rest of the kids, but not him, not anymore. He just gave her his signature smirk and told her to breathe. They had planned for this. They were ready for winter. They’d be fine.  
“And if we’re not, we’ll figure something out. We always do,” he reassured her.  
What they didn’t plan on, however, was Murphy setting the smoke house on fire a week later. Whether or not it was on purpose, Clarke couldn't say with one hundred percent certainty, but if she was worried before, it was nothing compared to the despair and desperation she felt now.  
“I’ll kill him!” Bellamy seethed as he paced the length of his tent, which admittedly, wasn’t very big to begin with. His angry presence seemed to fill it, leaving Clarke to stand her ground by his makeshift bed.  
“We’re not killing him.” She said.  
“I said he had one more ch-" Bellamy began again but Clarke cut him off, before he made good on his word.  
“We’re not killing him, Bellamy.” she said in a tone he loved to mock her about because it made her sound regal, like the princess he thought she was. Bellamy just glared at her for a long moment in attempt to get his temper under control because really, he couldn't disobey that tone.  
“Well, then what’re we going to do? Let him live? He tried to hang me,” he snarled, bringing his lips into such a tight line Clarke wondered if his mouth had finally disappeared all together. His jaw clenched and he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. Clarke wouldn't have ever admitted it to him, but he was downright scary when he wanted to be. She was just glad he stopped pacing.  
“Yeah, after you tired to hang him, so I think you’re both even,” his eyes somehow managed to become darker. She furrowed her brow in concentration and he raised his expectantly.  
“Looking to you, Princess.” He continued when she didn’t respond. Clarke ignored the nickname — it didn’t bother her as much as it used to.  
“Anyone we can spare goes hunting. Tomorrow. Split into three groups, one to the East, north and south. The trip to the river for seaweed will have to wait. Everyone else stays here to continue reinforcing the tents like we planned. As for Murphy, he’s on house arrest. He can be on the rebuilding team.” She decided. Bellamy gave her a curt nod when she was finished.  
“Is Raven making progress with the radios?” He asked her in afterthought as they exited the tent to make the camp aware of the plan.  
“She better have something by tomorrow.” Clarke threatened.  
0o0  
It turned out that Raven really was a genius. She pulled an all-nighter and got the walkie talkies working, though she didn’t know what their range would be once they left the proximity of the drop ship camp.  
“It’ll be a field test.” She said to a grim looking Clarke before the hunting parties set out. Clarke was confident in Raven’s ability to get the old tech working with limited resources, but she still hated the idea of sending half of her camp out on a gamble. It seemed that everything that could possibly go wrong in their winter preparations was doing exactly that. It was Clarke’s worst nightmares come to fruition.  
“Hey,” she called to Bellamy after he assembled the three hunting groups — he knew their strengths and weaknesses better than she did — “Don’t die out there.” She gave him a small smile and he nodded before smiling back. He then moved out with Harper, Miller, and two dozen others.  
She sighed and chewed her bottom lip for a moment before rubbing her hands together for warmth and turned to go and check on the tent structures, shivering as she went.  
0o0  
Raven, who had also stayed behind due to her important role as their resident mechanic, didn’t catch up with Clarke until later the next day.  
“Hey so the radios have better range than I thought. Miller’s group is about three miles out to the East and the frequency is spotty, but I can still hear him. I think we’ll lose connection sometime tom — hey where are your gloves?” Raven interrupted herself as Clarke brought her hands to her mouth, catching Raven’s attention. Between spending the morning reinforcing tents and cataloging medical supplies, Clarke didn’t think she’d ever be able to feel them again.  
“I gave them to Monroe.” Clarke shrugged, “I figured she needed them more than I did.” Raven rolled her eyes, knowing that Monroe was on guard duty and not working with her bare hands on metal, and handed her a head set.  
“Go warm up. Keep up contact with the hunters while we can. I’ll take care of things out here for a while.” And before Clarke could argue, Raven was off, chewing out a kid to watch where he was going when carrying that heavy log.  
Clarke huddled up in the drop ship, afraid to touch the wires complexly woven to the circuit board taken from Raven’s pod. Clarke just put on the head set and continued rubbing her hands together.  
“Raven? Raven this is the South team. Are you still reading us?” came a static-y voice over the head set.  
“Bellamy?” Clarke answered, warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with being indoors again.  
“Clarke, where’s Raven?” he asked.  
“Outside. Was there something you needed or just checking in?”  
“Didn’t know Raven trusted the Princess with her radio,” Clarke could hear his boyish smirk dripping with every word and she rolled her eyes, forgetting that he couldn't see her.  
“So checking in,” she assumed dryly.  
“All business, okay,” he laughed and Clarke smiled to herself, “but you’ll be happy to know our group caught a two headed dear, a couple of rabbits and something that resembles a bear. Not sure what it is exactly, but it’s meat.”  
“Th – that’s great, Bellamy.” Clarke shivered, her teeth rattling as just the right moment to affect her speech. Bellamy caught the stutter.  
“Are you okay?” he asked, and Clarke wished he wouldn’t. But they were closer to each other than they were when they landed, and they knew each other now, and they knew that lying only made it harder to do the job they were both so keen on doing. Bellamy wouldn’t let up if he thought something was wrong.  
“Fine,” Clarke responded through the head set, “just cold.”  
“Well, go find a fucking blanket or something. We should be back tomorrow night or early the next morning if the snow slows us down so make sure the new smoke house is ready.” He reported. Clarke nodded before she remembered, again, that he couldn’t see her.  
“Be careful.”  
“Will do.” There was static on the head set following Bellamy’s voice, then there was nothing, and Clarke continued to sit there in the drop ship, calculating the hours until her friends — until Bellamy — came home.  
0o0  
Clarke could recognize the signs of pneumonia easily enough. By the end of the next day, her ribs ached from coughing and she knew if she didn’t take it easy, some of them would probably bruise. Her eyes were dark and heavy from lack of sleep and chills shuttered violently through her body. Her throat was sore and her head throbbed.  
She decided to ignore the signs.  
Raven supervised the final construction of the new smokehouse off to one edge of camp, not too far from the herb house Jasper had insisted they build for the nuts, berries and roots they had collected. Clarke headed in that direction to speak with Raven about the frequency of the radios. She wanted to check in with Miller’s unit, since he thought they found another hidden bunker they had missed, and also because she wanted to hear Bellamy’s voice again — even if she wouldn't outwardly admit it. She decided to stop for a cup of water, located near the dying embers of the fire in the center of camp, looking for anything to keep the razor blades in her throat at bay.  
It happened just after she saw Monty and Jasper walking towards her, probably also in search of water, and just before she brought the metal cup to her lips. She felt like her body was no longer her own, and her mind moved faster than her limbs. Clarke registered that she was falling, but the only thing she could do was close her eyes as her head hit the frozen ground and the sound of the cup clanking off a small rock resonated in her ears.  
When Clarke woke up, she was on a pallet in the drop ship. The first thing she was aware of was the ringing in her ears and that she couldn’t move. She was wrapped up in multiple scratchy blankets like a woolen burrito. She then became aware of a girl, a very angry girl, swearing somewhere out of sight, louder than Clarke thought was altogether necessary.  
“Shit, Blake, come in! Damn this stupid whether!” Clarke craned her neck to see Raven sitting at the control panel turned comm system where she was tweaking wires and circuits, none of which Clarke pretended to understand.  
“Raven? You there?” Clarke recognized Bellamy’s rough voice, even through all the static.  
“You need to get back here. Something’s wrong with Clarke I don’t know what to do I’m not a fucking doctor! Monty and Jasper are trying to make something but I don't know if that’s even going to work, just hurry.” Raven rushed, and Clarke wasn’t sure if she even caught most of it, let alone Bellamy. There was silence from the other end and Raven swore again.  
Clarke decided she felt better already and tried to sit up, groaning in the process, earning her Raven’s attention.  
“Oh my god you’re awake.” Raven sighed in relief.  
“Bellamy” Clarke mumbled, almost too quiet for her own ears, but Raven caught it.  
“He’s coming,” Raven said quietly, a stark contrast from her outburst moments before. She smoothed out the flyaway hairs on Clarke’s forehead.  
Clarke tried to protest Raven’s attempt at helping her heal, knowing that food for the camp was more important than her well-being, but she was cut off by Bellamy’s voice.  
“Is she alive?” he asked as if he didn’t really want to know that answer.  
“Yes,” Raven replied to him curtly, “hold on.” The mechanic ditched the head set and rushed back over to Clarke, “Hey shhh it’s okay.” Raven said soothingly as she rubbed her arms over Clarke’s to keep her warm against the harsh winds that threatened to enter the drop ship. How Raven even knew where her arms were under all the layers surprised Clarke.  
“Lemme up.” Clarke demanded, though not every effectively, because Raven gently pushed her back into a horizontal position and not so gently told her to stay put.  
“South Squad, how far out are you?” Raven asked, once she put the head set back on.  
“A mile and a half, maybe less,” Bellamy responded promptly, “we'll be there soon.” Monty entered the drop ship just then, carrying a steaming mug of what Clarke hoped was tea. He assured her that it was, as helped prop her up so she could drink it. It helped her throat, if not much else.  
“Bellamy doesn’t have to bring his entire group back just because of me. And South Squad, Raven?” Clarke musters in a raspy voice.  
“It sounds cool. And don’t get all hot and bothered they were due back tonight anyway.” Clarke rolled her eyes, which hurt her head more than she would like to admit, and finished the tea with Monty’s aid before both he and Raven left the confined space of the drop ship to await the return of the South Squad.  
Clarke didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until cold hands were waking her up.  
“Hey, Princess.” Came a familiar voice from somewhere far away. It wasn’t until she came to full consciousness that she realized he was close. Dangerously close.  
“Don’t,” she croaked tuning her head away from him, “you’ll get sick, too,” But Bellamy stayed put. Octavia entered the drop ship just then, carrying more tea and a wet cloth.  
“Hey, good to see you awake,” she said in a soothing voice similar to her brother’s, “here, Bell.” She handed him the cloth, which he then tentatively placed against her forehead. Octavia set the tea down, gave Bellamy a pointed look, and left the drop ship as quickly as she had entered.  
Clarke sat up on her own this time, feeling ridiculous for all the attention. Bellamy guided her to lean against the drop ship wall, and adjusted the blankets so they were still covering the majority of Clarke’s body.  
“I’m gone for three days and look what happens.” Bellamy said lightly, trying to keep the conversation from going where he feared it someday would.  
“How much game did you get?” Clarke asked instead, realizing what Bellamy was saying, even with the mask of mockery between them.  
“Clarke,” he said, dangerously close to a warning.  
“It’s not like I wanted this to happen,” she sighed, making her cough, earning her an expression from Bellamy she wasn't sure she was ready to see, “It’s only going to get worse from here, you know.” She reminded him. He shook his head and ran a hand through his messy hair.  
“I know that, but,“ he sighed, unsure if he should continue, “you have to take care of yourself, Clarke. I’m not always going to be here to do it.” At this, Clarke’s shoulders stiffened, causing an ache in her ribs that she ignored.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded angrily. He ignored her question.  
“I heard you gave your gloves to Monroe.” He accused instead.  
“She needed them more than I did.”  
“She’s going to give them back.” Bellamy said in a tone that made Clarke think Monroe wasn’t aware of this.  
“She needs them more than I do.” Clarke muttered again.  
“What you need is to sleep,” Bellamy changed the subject again, “let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.” Without warning, he lifted her up, blankets and all, and carried her out of the drop ship in the direction of his tent.  
“Bellamy!” Clarke protested with a scratchy voice, now alert with wide eyes as the cold air hit her, chilling the sweat that had formed on her forehead and the back of her neck. She avoided the glances of those watching from various points around camp.  
“Shut up, Princess,” he grunted as he reached his tent and set her down on his bed Bellamy yet again adjusted the blankets around her. He smirked at her expression, which was torn between deep sleep and aggravation. Too weak to protest, Clarke shifted into a more comfortable position and Bellamy turned to leave.  
“Wait,” she called and he turned back to face her, “stay?” she pleaded, “Just for a little while.” Bellamy’s heart did weird things inside his chest, and he didn’t need any invitation besides that hopeful look in her eyes to sit down beside her and brush loose strands of hair away from her face. Clarke took shallow breaths and closed her eyes.  
Bellamy took a leap of faith and shifted slightly so that he was propped up in a mostly sitting position at the head of the bed. Clarke, not yet asleep, shifted as well, and her head came to rest on Bellamy’s stomach, her hand clutching his shirt like a lifeline. He would take it. If this was all he ever got, he would take it, and be grateful. The world hadn't offered him much, but he thought that having Clarke, even a little piece of her, more than made up for it.  
Clarke slowly drifted off, and knowing he wasn't far behind her, Bellamy gambled placing a kiss on her temple. She was warm and sweaty but her skin felt good on his lips. She didn't wake, for which he was thankful. He wouldn't know what to say if she had.  
She did feel it though, it transcended the veil of her light slumber. Clarke didn't dare move. She didn't want to have that conversation. So instead, she tucked that moment away in the back of her mind with all of the other conversations she never wanted to have. Like the one with she would be forced to have with her mom if they ever contacted the Ark, or the one she would have with Wells, if he were still with her on the ground. She especially didn't want to think about what she would say to her father if he could hear her. Clarke ignored her feelings, something she did very well, and subconsciously snuggled closer to Bellamy’s safe, strong arms.  
A heavy weight fell over Bellamy and he felt it deeply in his chest, though Clarke’s hand rested on his stomach. He never would have thought that he and Clarke Griffin would be friends or even allies, let alone sharing a bed. But somehow they were more than that, he thought, they were friends, confidantes and he hoped that maybe they would be something more. He shamefully remembered when she questioned his sexual habits in a leadership position and he idly wondered if she noticed he hadn't shacked up with another girl in a long time, not since that second week on the ground. He wondered if she cared, and that was the most soul crippling thought of them all.  
0o0  
Clarke’s fever broke two days later, in which time neither of them, nor anyone else in the camp who saw them emerge together the next morning, mentioned their sleeping arrangement. Clarke had since returned to sleeping on the first level of the drop ship with her patients and Bellamy remained in his tent near the wall. He decided that her plea of “stay” had been a temporary one and that she wasn't hung up thinking about him, so he would stop thinking about her.  
Or at least he would try.  
0o0  
“Hey, so I really want to get some more seaweed before the lakes start to freeze over,” Clarke said by way of greeting as she entered Bellamy’s tent for the first time since their pneumonia induced cuddling episode.  
“And I want you to wear some fucking gloves but I guess we can’t all get what we want,” he grumbled, barely looking up at her. Clarke sensed a fight and braced herself with her hands on her hips.  
“What was that?” she asked incredulously, daring him to keep going.  
“You heard me,” he said, rising to the challenge.  
“What is your problem?” she seethed, never quite knowing what set Bellamy off into these moods, but not particularly liking when they did.  
“You shouldn't be sleeping in the drop ship,” he replied after a moment in almost a whisper, and it was certainly not the answer Clarke expected, because she dropped her arms and they hung limply at her side.  
“I’m not going to catch pneumonia again. At least not this year. My body built up antibodies and-“ but he cut her off.  
“You shouldn't be sleeping there because it’s uncomfortable and cold. Your patients shouldn't be sleeping there either. We’re moving medical to the second floor,”  
“I’m sure Raven would love having the first floor to herself,” Clarke deadpanned, not entirely comfortable with Bellamy’s sudden concern.  
“Seriously. We’re doing it tomorrow,” He turned away from her, back to the knife he was angrily sharpening before she had interrupted.  
“Fine. Good idea,” Clarke relented, because as she had learned, compromise tended to work best when negotiating with others, and her relationship with Bellamy had been a battle since the beginning, slightly torturous at times, until it wasn’t. They were now people who compromised and Clarke recognized this moment as a time where she would have to concede, “Tomorrow,” she said and parted.  
0o0  
And so that’s how it happened. The very next morning, Bellamy was making noise in the drop ship, gathering the meager medical supplies they had and hauling them up the ladder to the second level. Clarke had become something of an early riser since landing on earth, and even she hadn't gotten around to waking up just yet. Something about Bellamy’s resolution made her suspicious and a little uneasy. Where Clarke slept every night shouldn’t necessarily be on the top of his already very long to do list.  
Figuring she might as well start her day, Clarke rose, and folded up her hole ridden, woolen blanket, and climbed the rungs to the second floor. Bellamy was already up there, setting up the place where Clarke would be spending most of the winter.  
“I can do this, you know,” she said softly, careful not to disturb the calm morning.  
“Most of it’s already done,” he shrugged, taking her blanket and stacking it with the rest of them he had already brought up.  
“I’ll go get Fox then,” and with that awkward encounter, Clarke made her way back to the first level, got Fox up, ushered her upstairs and set her up before allowing her to go back to sleep.  
Bellamy was still working around her and didn't say anything until Fox had her back turned to them, falling back into a fitful sleep.  
“Pneumonia?” Bellamy asked. Clarke looked at him quizzically, wondering what had gotten into him in the past week.  
“Not sure yet,” she replied, “hopefully it won’t last too long.” Bellamy didn't make eye contact with her, so instead of dealing with him, she climbed down the ladder once more and exited the drop ship.  
Unfortunately for them all, Fox’s fever didn't break, and Clarke couldn't say for sure whether she had strep or influenza. Not only that, but soon Monroe and Monty, along with several of the younger kids were crowding the second floor infirmary with the same symptoms.  
Bellamy had mostly avoided Clarke since their brief conversation the morning he moved the medical station, to which Raven had been thrilled and also suspicious of getting an entire room devoted to her workshop and command station. He had decided to seek Clarke out during his break from chopping firewood.  
He found her with Jasper, heading back to the drop ship with mugs of tea in hand.  
“I need to talk to you,” he said and she was startled. She turned back to Jasper, who was glancing between the two of them. He raised his mugs to them by way of parting and continued on to the drop ship.  
Clarke handed Bellamy a steaming cup as she took a sip from her own.  
“Aren’t those for your patients?” he asked, already reaching for the hot liquid.  
“I can make more,” she shrugged, “what did you need?” Bellamy swallowed and looked her directly in the eyes.   “You can’t stay there anymore,” he said, sure of himself.  
“Not this argument again,” Clarke groaned, careful not to draw attention to their conversation, “besides, I don't have a tent and it’s too late to build another,” she explained.  
“You can stay with me,” he said, and even to himself it sounded rehearsed, which he knew it was. Clarke was visibly taken aback by this offer, opening and closing her mouth several times without coming up with anything to say.  
“I have first shift boarder patrol tonight, don't wait up,” and just like that, his cheeky smile returned and he left her standing there in complete awe.  
0o0  
Clarke was not the gossiping type, but she simply could not help but immediately tell Raven about Bellamy’s offer.  
“The boys in love with you. He’s just killing two birds with one stone,” Raven explained indifferently. Clarke just looked at the mechanic, working out just exactly what she meant.  
“He gets to sleep with you while making sure our only doctor doesn't get sick,”  
“Oh,” was all Clarke could say in the face of what she feared was true.  
“Yeah”  
So in the end, Clarke decided to stay with Bellamy. From what she remembered of her pneumonia induced haze, his bed was way more comfortable than a pallet in the drop ship. She told herself it had nothing to do with his chest or his arms.  
The stars were out when Bellamy returned to his tent to find Clarke’s sleeping form on his makeshift mattress. He smiled, because he couldn't very well do anything else.  
As he shed his boots and jacket and crawled in, she stirred.  
“You’re cold,” she complained.  
“Sorry,” he said  
“Thank you for this,” she mumbled before nodding back off.  
“Goodnight, Princess,” he whispered in return, snuggling in against the cold that threatened to kill them all.  
0o0  
There was no time for awkward good mornings when they woke up the next day. Sounds of commotion spilled into the tent. Both of them were up and dressed within moments, rushing outside.  
“Miller’s recon team is back,” Bellamy informed her, thanks to his height.  
“Come on,” Clarke grabbed the sleeve of Bellamy’s jacket, hauling him along, maneuvering them through the crowd that had gathered towards the recon team that had just entered through the gate.  
That was how six of them, Clarke, Bellamy, Miller, Harper and Raven, ended up back in Bellamy’s tent, with Raven sneaking Clarke a knowing look as they entered.  
“Alight Miller, what did you find out,” Clarke asked, crossing her arms.  
“The grounder defenses are strong, and they have a stable food supply,” he informed them, “they're prepared, and they’re not going anywhere. Only go out if they have to.”  
“We have to remember that they’ve been living like this for a long time. The grounders know what they’re dealing with,” Harper added.  
“Sounds like we should ask them for advice,” Raven commented sarcastically. A glare from Bellamy had her raising her arms in defense.  
“All I’m saying is that Murphy screwed us over — again — and we need to salvage what we can from that bunker if we want to see the spring,”  
“It’s too dangerous right now. They know we need those supplies. They’d just pick us off one by one,” Bellamy argued.  
“But this would be the perfect time to go. Miller said they only go out on a need by need basis. They’re probably hoping the winter kills us off so they don't have to.” Clarke countered, desperate for anything they could get their hands on to save them from the weather, or even anything just to make it a little more bearable.  
“It’s doable. A small group would be best.” Miller agreed.  
“How did you even find it when your team was out hunting?” Clarke asked, directing her question to Miller.  
“We didn't go by the grounder camp. It was on our way back so we had actually circled around it. You could say that we came through the back door,” he explained.  
“It would take another three days if we followed the same path we took on the hunting trip. If we gambled taking the direct route past the grounder camp it would look more like a day and a half, maybe,” Harper elaborated, having been a part of Miller’s hunting team.  
“Another three day trip is dangerous, especially in this weather,” Clarke mused, “but would it necessarily be safer if the grounders are lying low?”  
“I’d rather take the faster route. We need those supplies and it wont be worth it if someone dies from hypothermia on the way,” Bellamy confirmed, making the plan official. Clarke agreed with him, for the first time in a while. The realization made her smile.  
“I’ll go,” Raven volunteered, “I can tell you if there’s any tech worth salvaging.”  
“I’ll back you up,” Bellamy said without hesitation, always doing what needed to be done.  
“I want to go too,” Clarke intervened, to everyones surprise, “Miller can handle things here,” she offered, looking at Bellamy, who was starting to hate this plan very much.  
“No.” he said like it was final.  
“Why not?” Clarke shot back, hands flying to her hips.  
“You’re our only doctor, we need you here,” Bellamy explained, and Clarke couldn't help but notice the glance Raven threw her way at his words.  
“Monty and Octavia are trained enough to handle whatever comes their way,” Clarke pleaded, looking to her friends for backup, not particularly finding any.  
“Monty is still sick,” Miller reminded her. Clarke glared at him, making it clear that he was not her friend in that moment.  
“Fine,” she conceded, yet again, “I’ll stay,”  
0o0  
Clarke spent that night back in the drop ship, much to Bellamy’s resentment. She woke up early the morning the his team was set to leave for the bunker. He was taking Raven, Harper and Miller with him, a small but capable group. Clarke was worried about the strain all the travel was having on some of their bodies. It seemed like every time Bellamy made it back to camp safely, he needed to leave again within the week.  
Clarke hated it. She hated not knowing if she would ever see him again, or if she did, it would be to bury his body. She hated being left alone to make decisions for the camp. She hated the way people started to look at her as if she would break. Maybe she wasn't cut out for this sort of leadership and responsibility, and maybe that was okay. Maybe she had to stop living for everyone else and live for herself.  
No. She knew that could never be the case. Her skills made her their doctor but her compassion and loyalty made her their leader. Her reign was a challenging one, and she wouldn't put that burden on anyone else.  
Thinking about her situation, and the way she shared it with Bellamy meant everything to he, which only made it harder to say goodbye to him at the gate when they were ready to leave.  
“I still wish I could go with you,” she grumbled as he adjusted his pack. He tucked his gun into the waistband of his pants.  
“You just got over having pneumonia, and we have too many other kids sick right now. Don’t worry, we won’t overlook anything,”  
“I know, I know,” she said to both counts, “but that’s not what I’m worried about,” Clarke sighed and met Bellamy’s eyes, trying to catalogue every detail — just in case.  
“Don’t die out there,” she said to him in parting. He gave her a special smile, the one he always gave her when she said those words to him, “Bellamy, I’m serious. I need you to come back,” she confessed, ashamed at how desperate she sounded. He didn't make a jab at her, like he normally might have. He knew when he needed to be serious as well.  
She didn't expect him to take a step forward, and she didn't expect him to wrap his arms around her, or press his lips above her ear and whisper,  
“I will,” before giving her one last squeeze and letting her go. Clarke watched, speechless, as he called to their friends. She gazed after his retreating figure long after the gate closed behind them, repeating I will in her mind like a mantra. I will. I will. I will. His promise and her prayer.  
0o0  
Everything had been going according to plan so far, and Bellamy counted him and his team lucky. It had taken them a little more than a day to reach the bunker Miller had scouted the week before. They had slowed down while passing the grounder settlement to avoid being seen or heard. It was a lot harder to avoid crunchy sticks and leaves when a layer of snow covered their path.  
Once they had reached the bunker, which was similar to the one Clarke had found weeks prior, they spent the rest of the day taking an inventory of what the bunker had to offer.  
“These toy cars are just like the ones I made the radios out of. If we can find the remotes I can make more!” Raven called out among the commotion of the excited team.  
“Canned food here in the back,” Harper said warily, “not sure how good it still is,”  
“We need guns,” Bellamy said, “see if there’s any ammunition too,”  
“I found blankets,” Miller added  
And so, by the time the day had ended, they were each huddled up in a blanket, eating ration packs, surrounded by their loot.  
“The hard part will be lugging all this back to camp,” Raven mused between bites. They all nodded along, sleep beginning to wash over them.  
“Worth it though,” Harper added after a moment, “we’ll survive now.”  
This, Bellamy thought, was probably true. They had been able to gather blankets, winter jackets, guns and ammunition, Raven’s toy trucks, canned food, matches, water canteens and even several pairs of gloves — one of which he definitely planned on giving to Clarke.  
Clarke.  
They had everything they needed to survive the winter now, granted sickened didn't take them and the grounders didn't attack. He thought back to the frequent arguments they had been having in the past few weeks and decided, as he nodded off, that he wanted to give her one more thing.  
0o0  
“Where’s Bellamy?” Miller asked, quite panicked the next morning when he awoke among his friends. Bellamy’s spot on the floor was empty, blankets neatly folded. There was a jacket missing, as well as his pack and his gun.  
“Shit,” Raven said sleepily, waking Harper too. Bellamy would never just leave them, they knew, and so something must have been terribly wrong. They dressed for the weather, leaving their stash behind to go in search of Bellamy.

0o0  
Clarke happily made her way around the camp that evening, making sure that the fire didn't go out, and making sure the kids had gotten something to eat. She sent some of the younger ones off to bed, some of them making a fuss about her being too much of a mom, but followed her orders anyway.  
Once she was satisfied that everyone was taken care of, Clarke grabbed her own bowl of food and sat by the fire, trying to ignore the awful taste. She was allowed a few minutes of peace before she heard shouting from outside the wall, and one of the guards on watch called below to open the gate. Clarke left her spot by the fire and rushed to the front of the crowd. The sight she met was one she didn't think she’d ever forget. She froze where she was. She could hardly speak.  
Harper was the first one she saw, unharmed, but guiding Miller, who was covered in blood. Upon further inspection, it seemed that the blood wasn't his own. He was holding on to Bellamy, who clung to Miller for support. Raven, supporting the other side of Bellamy, was decidedly less bloodied.  
“Move! Move! Everyone out of the way!” Harper shouted as she cleared a path for the small group to Bellamy’s tent, thankfully located close to the gate. Clarke felt a hand grab her arm, and looked over to see Octavia pulling her along. Suddenly her legs were moving, following behind the group as they laid an unconscious Bellamy down.  
“What happened?” Clarke asked breathlessly.  
“He ran off to get the seaweed plant you needed and I guess the grounders needed it too—“ Raven broke off, letting the sight of Bellamy’s bloody cuts speak for her. All she could do was stare in disbelief. He promised. Suddenly, there were hot tears running down her face. She was frozen again, taking in the sight of him, unable to look away.  
“Don’t just stand there, do something!” Octavia shrieked, rushing forward. Her shaking hands took hold of her brother’s. Clarke quickly shook herself back to reality, calling for Monty’s help, letting Octavia cling desperately to Bellamy.  
Clarke counted what few lucky stars she had that Raven and Miller were capable of handling the kids’ questions as they tried to peer inside the tent. Monty appeared through the crowd, nodded at Clarke, and together, they began cleaning around the stab wounds and gashes so Clarke sew him up.  
Time seemed to stand still. She wasn't aware of how long she had been operating on Bellamy, but her tears had dried, and so had Octavia’s, for the most part. Monty was sitting in the corner, ready to be of use when Clarke needed him. She didn't know what she would do if this didn't work, if she wasn't a good enough doctor or if she somehow let the wounds get infected. Her hands had been steady during the surgery, but now that they were done cleaning and bandaging his torso the best she could, they were shaking, and she feared that her watery eyes would threaten to betray her.  
Clarke left the tent without warning, deciding to find a new shirt to replace the blood-soaked one she wore. Raven, thank god for her, found Clarke in one of Bellamy’s old shirts, hysterically rinsing the blood out of her own. She didn't say anything, just crouched down next to Clarke and rubbed steady, slow circles on her back.  
Knowing that Bellamy wouldn't be awake for a few hours, Clarke decided to make good use of her time, since she knew she’d never be able to sleep. She made her rounds and checked on her patients and she carefully stored the seaweed Bellamy had risked his life for.  
After a few hours, Clarke made him some tea, and headed back towards his tent, taking a deep breath before she entered. Monty had vacated his spot on the corner, and Octavia was seated next to the bed, still clutching to Bellamy’s hand. The only difference was that he was now awake. She breathed a sigh of relief, managed a small smile, and set the mug down next to Bellamy. Octavia, all smiles, thanked Clarke and gave Bellamy a hug before excusing herself, knowing that Clarke needed time with him too.  
Neither of them quite knew what to say to fill the silence. Instead, Clarke took Octavia’s seat and glared at the bandages on Bellamy’s chest as if they had personally offended her, and in a way, they had. She tried to avoid looking anywhere else, like his eyes, or the rest of his very bare chest. She could feel his gaze on her, and fought her urge to meet it.  
“Is that my shirt?” he started.  
“You promised,” was all she said in response. Clarke knew her voice sounded cold and harsh and she hated how it made him furrow his brows together, clearly hurt. She hoped he understood what she meant, because explaining it would give her away. She wanted him to know without her having to admit it.  
“I came back,” he replied, acknowledging that he understood, “I’m here,”  
“You were almost dead,” she said softly, finally meeting his eyes, “and for what? Some stupid plant? You’re lucky they love you enough to save your ass. What would I have done?” she said, her voice betraying her near the end.  
“You would have done what you had to do,” he said with such conviction, she wondered why he had stopped hating her and started believing in her so strongly. She wondered when it happened, and why she hadn't noticed before that moment.  
She shook her head at his words, knowing that his vision of her was not true. If he hadn't made it, she would break, and she would make poor choices, and everyone would die, and it would be all her fault. It would be her fault that she couldn't save Bellamy or the rest of the camp, and that was a reality she didn't want to live.  
“I’m not so sure,” she confessed, and because he truly believed she was underestimating her own strength, he took her hand and held her gaze.  
“I am.” he stated. Clarke shook her head again.  
“I should have given you a reason to stay,” she choked, placing her other hand on top of his, cradling his hand between her own.  
“You gave me a reason to come back,” he whispered, as if afraid he would scare her off. At this, Clarke smiled and gave him a watery laugh through the tears that hadn't yet welled over her eyes. Removing one of her hands from his, she brought it to his face, slowly, and placed it along his cheek. In that moment, it felt as if the whole world were holding their breath, or at least it was silent enough to make it seem that way. Clarke brought her lips to Bellamy’s forehead, pressing a lingering kiss to his skin, taking in the smell of his dark curls.  
Clarke hadn't realized that he had closed his eyes until she pulled away, keeping one hand intertwined with his and the other still cradling his face. When he opened his eyes again, she was still smiling.  
“I remember, you know,” she confessed, “the first night I stayed here.” Clarke had never seen Bellamy blush before, but she definitely hadn't made up the crimson color that tinged his tan skin.  
“I’m sorry—“ he rushed, trying to apologize for overstepping his boundaries.  
“I didn't mind,” she said.  
“Why didn't you say anything?” he asked, genuinely interested in what she had to say.  
“I didn't know what I wanted,” she shrugged, “but I do now.” There is was. The confession she had been afraid of admitting to herself, never mind out loud and to Bellamy himself, but he knew the weight of her words, so he gently grabbed hold of her wrist, removing it from his cheek to kiss her knuckles.  
“Alright,” Clarke took in a breath, suddenly overcome by the emotions she had been trying to fight, “you need to rest.” She moved to stand and leave Bellamy to heal, but he held tight to her hand and whispered one simple word,  
“Stay?” she rolled her eyes at the obvious symmetry of the situation, but complied nevertheless. She settled in on the good side of his chest to avoid hurting him. This time, Clarke rested her head in the crook of his shoulder, holding the hand he had placed around her waist.  
Three words hung in the air between them as they drifted off to sleep, but both of them knew that it would be another conversation for another day.


End file.
